


Missing: One Childhood

by mabonwitch



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Crowley is little, Crying, Don't Post To Another Site, Established Relationship, Fluff, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Napping, Non-Sexual Age Play, Platonic Cuddling, Roleplay, Stars, Storytime, bath toys, good communication, so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabonwitch/pseuds/mabonwitch
Summary: In which some role-playing allows Crowley to be naughty but not evil, Aziraphale is utterly charmed by little!Crowley, and they are adorable together.Or“You're my little bit of mischief!”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	Missing: One Childhood

“Seems sort of a pity,” Crowley remarked. He leaned idly against the bench. 

Aziraphale lifted a hand to shade his eyes. The Them strolled in a sort of loose circle in the distance. Adam was gesturing with his hands, face serious. “They do grow up quickly, don't they?”

Crowley cast a swift, startled look sideways at him. “Sure.” He touched the pocket were his phone was tucked away. “Not what I mean, though. Just...seems a bit, I don't know. That we never.” He gestured at the figures playing. Aziraphale frowned, uncertain. “Had a childhood,” Crowley finished. 

It was a good job Aziraphale had started paying so much more attention to Crowley of late, or he might have missed it altogether. The tense set of his shoulders, the fidgety way he moved his hands. For some reason, this was important. 

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said slowly. “I rather enjoy the benefits of adulthood.” He reached out and patted Crowley's knee gently. “Nothing to say an adult can't play, in any case.”

It must have been the right thing to say, because Crowley relaxed. “Yeah.”

**

Crowley chuckled. He was slumped almost sideways in his chair, which was certainly not designed to hold a serpent as flexible as he. Aziraphale felt a fond tug in his heart. The play was rather good, and it was even better not to worry about being seen at it with Crowley. The man playing a child on stage said something especially clever and sent a second wave of laughter through the audience.

“Reminds me of what you said,” Crowley said, “about adults playing.”

“Hm,” Aziraphale responded.

**

Aziraphale could become absorbed for days at a time in his books, but that didn't mean he was oblivious. Crowley switching from his phone to his laptop in the shop was unusual enough. The somewhat frantic pace of his typing drew Aziraphale further out of his reading. Everything slowing, until there was nothing more than a click every few minutes, made him finally glance up. 

There was a faint dust of pink along Crowley's cheekbones. He seemed very intent.

“Dearest?”

Crowley flinched, jerking at Aziraphale's voice. Ah. It must be something sensitive, then.

“You needn't share if you don't like,” Aziraphale said, “but I think perhaps you would like?”

It took Crowley a moment to respond. Probably struggling with old habits. They had both made a concerted effort to be more honest with each other over the last few years. “It's. Just.” He took a deep breath. “I was thinking about, you know, playing. Er. Adult games.” He winced. “Not, uh, those kinds- I already know about those kinds, just thought there might be something else out there.”

“You found something?” Aziraphale asked, when it became clear that Crowley had stalled out.

Crowley nodded. He looked between his laptop and Aziraphale. “It's not- I mean-” Aziraphale held an arm out in wordless invitation. Crowley sighed in relief and flopped down beside Aziraphale. Aziraphale tucked him close. After a few minutes of cuddling, Crowley snapped his computer over and laid down in Aziraphale's lap. “It's just an idea.”

Aziraphale scrolled to the top of the page and began to read. “Oh,” he said, pleased, “role-playing.” Crowley made a faintly despairing noise. Aziraphale stroked his hair soothingly. Really, it was hardly Aziraphale's fault that role-playing seemed an awful lot like theatre to him. And once Crowley had got over how terribly uncool it was, they had had a lot of fun.

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully to himself as he took in the information on the page. He poked through several of the links. Goodness, it was amazing what humans came up with! At one point, he ended up on a page with a title that caused him to freeze and then backspace abruptly.

“Sexual?” Aziraphale asked carefully.

“Ugh, no.” Crowley shivered. “Urk.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said, relieved. After a bit more research, he felt he had the basics. “Can you tell me what about it appeals?”

Crowley closed his eyes firmly, curling in on himself a bit. “Like playing, that's all.” Aziraphale waited. “Kids are- y'know. Not evil. Naughty, maybe. But not bad.”

Aziraphale's stomach lurched. Oh, his poor dear. And Aziraphale had spent so very long, telling him that his mischiefs were evil. “I see.”

Crowley turned face down, hiding. Aziraphale smiled fondly down at him. “Should you like to get up to some trouble, and hear that you are still my dear, sweet boy?”

Crowley jerked. Tension in every line of him, he nodded.

“I think I should like that too,” Aziraphale said. “How old, do you think?”

Crowley shifted slightly, one eye peeking out at him. “Dunno. Four, maybe?”

“Old enough to be toilet trained,” Aziraphale said, pleased. 

“Ngk. That's- fuck's sake, angel. I'm not meaning for you to, to.” He pushed himself up so he could gesture. “Baby me, or summat. M'not- it's not-”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. “I always take care of you, my dear. I think the difference is more that in this instance, you would not be taking care of me.” He paused, something occurring to him. He fought back a laugh; Crowley could be terribly sensitive about this sort of thing. “Goodness, would I feed you?”

Crowley collapsed again. Dramatic creature. At least he was face up this time. He threw an arm up. “Sure, yes, I will suddenly be helpless to manage anything. You can just spoon it in. Why not fetch a bottle while you're at it?”

“Bottles are for babies,” Aziraphale said calmly. “I would get you a sippy cup, naturally.” Crowley gaped. It wasn't a refusal. “Perhaps some special dishes, just for you when you are being little. Would you like that?”

Crowley closed his mouth and looked away. Aziraphale interpreted the shrug and dip of his chin as a yes. 

“Clothes!” Aziraphale said brightly.

“Oh no,” Crowley said. “Angel, no. I am not letting you dress me.”

Aziraphale tried not to pout. “What if we picked out some things together?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “What if I picked out some things on my own?”

“Could I put them on you?” Aziraphale asked, surprised by his sudden feeling of wistfulness. “Dress you? Maybe- bathe you?”

A spark of interest flared on Crowley's face. Aziraphale was ever so grateful for how patiently they had worked through all the most recent pains. He could never put Crowley in a bath otherwise. He wondered if Crowley would like bath toys.

“You'd be a ball of mischief in a bath, wouldn't you?”

Crowley grinned. He didn't even try to make it sound believable when he said, “I'm sure it would be fine.”

Aziraphale considered the sorts of things they had discussed with their other play. “I think we ought to come up with some rules.”

Crowley groaned, but summoned paper and pen. Aziraphale hummed his appreciation, and set out the lines, becoming familiar by now, of a new game. What they each wanted, hard no's, space for ideas on how to proceed, rules that were meant to be broken, possible punishments, and so on. It took several sessions over the course of the next week before they were both satisfied. Crowley, unexpectedly, dithered over his clothes. Aziraphale left him to it, instead gathering a small stockpile of things he thought might be useful.

They chose a quiet Saturday afternoon for their first experiment. The bookshop felt safer to them both, though Aziraphale did worry a bit about the books. Crowley asked to change on his own. Aziraphale left him to it, performing an outfit change of his own. He suspected Crowley would be messier than usual, and he hated the thought of ruining any of his normal wardrobe. A pair of trousers and a proper linen shirt would do. They matched his usual base layers. It was a bit scant, but he didn't plan to leave the shop. Aziraphale tucked a plush stuffed snake into the corner of the couch, put the kettle on, and waited.

It took awhile for Crowley to emerge. Aziraphale was nearly done with his cup of tea when he sensed Crowley hesitating on the stairs. How odd it still was, seeing these flashes of shyness. 

“Well,” Aziraphale said to the empty air, “I suppose if he doesn’t want any of the presents, I can always tuck them away for later...”

“Presents?” Crowley popped right out of the stairwell. 

Aziraphale bit back a coo. Oh, but he was absolutely darling, in the short pants and shirt he'd chosen! He smiled warmly at Crowley. “Just there,” he said, nodding toward the couch. 

Crowley's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He hurried to the couch and sat on the floor, bringing himself eye level with the snake. He stared at it very seriously, then hissed. Aziraphale worried for a moment, that he had somehow offended Crowley. Then Crowley hissed again. He bit his lip when it became clear that Crowley was having a pretend conversation with his new toy. 

Eventually, Crowley looked up. “His name is Snake.”

Aziraphale nodded seriously. “A very original name,” he said. And it was: snake, after all, was the very first name an animal of this kind had received. 

“He says thank you for bringin' him here,” Crowley said.

“How polite of him.”

Crowley squirmed. He carefully reached out and picked up Snake, holding him close. “Presentssss?”

“Smart lad,” Aziraphale said. “Indeed.” With a snap, he brought the box of legos down from where he had stored them upstairs. He'd gone for the older type, full of blocks that didn't have a million fussy instructions. “I thought you might like to make something.”

Crowley poked the box with one hesitant finger. “'M not 'llowed to make stuff.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath against the wash of anger that brought. “Well, that is certainly not a rule here. It is my house, and I say that you can make things.” He almost left it there, but then realized what problems could be created, and swiftly added, “with any materials I give you, and you may always ask for more.”

Crowley opened the box and peered inside. And then, in a move Aziraphale really should have seen coming, he up-ended the whole box onto the table. He looked gleeful about the mess, shooting Aziraphale a look to see if he was in trouble. Aziraphale smiled. “What will you make?”

Crowley shrugged. His fingers went right to work anyway though. Aziraphale watched in bemusement as a short wall took shape, only to veer off suddenly. One split quickly became a whole maze, bits stopping and starting without seeming rhyme or reason. 

Aziraphale huffed, laughing softly. “You've built a little bookshop,” he said. Crowley grinned up at him, wider and somehow sweeter than Aziraphale was used to. 

“Shop,” Crowley agreed. He sat back, looking at his maze. Then he took Snake from under his arm and carefully wrapped him around the whole thing. He gave Aziraphale a satisfied look.

Aziraphale smiled, feeling practically aglow with love. “What an excellent job Snake will do, guarding the shop.” Crowley blushed a little. Aziraphale didn't push. “Well, shall we go on a treasure hunt? The rest of your presents are hidden, you see.”

Crowley's eyes went big. He scrambled to his feet, knocking into the table. Aziraphale saved his lego creation with a quick snap. “Presents?” Crowley asked, fingers posed to snap.

“It will be more fun to look for them,” Aziraphale said. He was a bit impressed that Crowley had stopped to ask. They had decided on a few types of miracles Crowley could do unsupervised, and bringing his presents to him was certainly not one of them. 

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand and began tugging him around the shop, searching for treasure. Aziraphale put some limits on likely hiding spots, lest his dear go shoving the books around. Just as he had thought, once Crowley settled a bit, he discovered his next prize in no time at all.

Aziraphale looked from the bottles of finger-paint to Crowley's face and prayed he hadn't made a terrible mistake. He carefully set Snake and the lego bookshop on a shelf that abruptly found itself with space and put the rest of the legos back into their container. 

“Now, we shall need a few things,” Aziraphale said. “Would you like to help? I will make us smocks, and you can get a cover for the table. We don't want paint to get all over it.” 

Crowley raised his fingers, a questioning look on his face. Aziraphale beamed at him. “Go ahead, sweeting.”

Crowley ducked is head, blushing a bright red, and snapped up an enormous plastic tablecloth. He tugged it up open and draped it over the table. Aziraphale miracled up two smocks. He put his on first.

“Now, I know you prefer to choose your own clothes,” Aziraphale said, “but this isn't clothes. It's protective equipment. Like goggles!”

Crowley giggled a little as Aziraphale rounded the table. “Arms out,” he said. Crowley pouted but did as he was told. Aziraphale slid the smock on, tying it behind Crowley's back. 

Crowley looked down at himself, all covered in white, and made a face. He snapped, and his smock turned black. Aziraphale thought it looked rather funeral when Crowley was supposed to be little, but he didn't say anything. Color changing was one of the pre-discussed miracles Crowley was allowed. When that didn't bring a reprimand, Crowley snapped again and changed Aziraphale's smock as well, turning it a soft blue.

Aziraphale ran a hand down his smock. He supposed it wasn't so bad. “Is that better?” he asked.

Crowley snapped again in response, eyes bright with mischief. Aziraphale looked around, trying to spot what had been changed. Crowley giggled. Oh dear. He was looking at Aziraphale. What...oh. Slowly, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer, Aziraphale raised a hand to his head. Crowley clapped a hand over his mouth and laughed harder.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, trying to stay calm, “did you change my hair?” When Crowley nodded, laughter escaping from behind his hand, Aziraphale couldn’t help but frown. “Crowley!”

Crowley's laughter cut off abruptly. 

“My hair!” Aziraphale said. He had kept his hair the same for thousands of years. “I can't believe you!”

Crowley's hand lowered. His smile was gone. “'M sorry.” His voice was alarmingly thin. Oh dear, perhaps Aziraphale had over-reacted. “'M sorry, sorry, don' be mad. I didn't mean to be bad.”

And then, all at once, Crowley burst into tears. Aziraphale froze for a moment, taken aback. When Crowley had confessed a desire for comfort, Aziraphale had never expected this. Then, in a rush, he rounded the table and scooped Crowley up, carrying him to the couch and settling him in his lap. 

He tried, without success, not to think on the second where Crowley flinched when Aziraphale first moved. As though he had been expecting...well. Aziraphale knew perfectly well that Hell didn't send rude notes.

Crowley was really lost now, clinging to Aziraphale and sobbing around mouthfuls of self-hating words. “'M bad, imma bad, bad boy, a'ways doin' the wrong thing.”

Aziraphale bit back his first instinct. Crowley couldn't take anything else right now. Instead, Aziraphale hummed and rubbed a firm hand up and down Crowley's back. Eventually, Crowley's words trailed off and his crying turned to sniffles.

“There, now, lovey, I've got you,” Aziraphale crooned. “I'm not going anywhere.” He rocked gently back and forth. It was only once Crowley's breathing had evened out that Aziraphale spoke again. “You're not bad, dear,” Aziraphale said. “You're my little bit of mischief!” This surprised a soft giggle from the place where Crowley was hiding his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck. Oh, Crowley was so utterly dear like this, Aziraphale thought he would burst with it! 

“My perfect sweeting,” Aziraphale went on, “can I tell you a secret?” Crowley, of course, nodded. He always wanted to know secrets. “Everyone messes up.” Aziraphale swallowed. He felt an Opinion coming on. Ever since the Apocalypse had failed to happen, it was as though all the observations he hadn't dared to make over the years had come flooding out. “Everyone messes up,” he repeated, arms tightening in a quick hug, “but that doesn't make us less perfect. Mistakes are okay. Even...even big ones. This is how we learn.”

“'M a mess?”

Aziraphale laughed a little. “I suppose you are. Everyone is, really.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Crowley's head. “But you're my mess.” Crowley finally lifted his head. His eyes and nose were red. “Now, how about we wash up before we paint?”

Crowley submitted to Aziraphale washing his face without much fuss. His eyes and nose were both a bit red. He didn't seem much inclined to climb off Aziraphale's lap, even when Aziraphale was done. With a mental shrug, Aziraphale picked him up and sat them both at the table and laid out a large piece of paper in front of Crowley. He tugged a plate close and filled it with globs of several different colors. 

Crowley, with a child's mercurial nature, seemed to have quite forgot his bout of tears. He stuck a hand right in the paint and slapped down on the paper. 

“Squish!”

“It is rather squishy, isn't it?”

Crowley dragged two fingers from his other hand through the red paint and traced a long double line away from his hand print. Then he did the same with the blue. Unlike with the legos, Aziraphale had no idea what he was looking at. Art, in his experience, always revealed something. He was terribly curious.

Crowley made a frustrated grunt. 

“What's wrong?” Aziraphale asked.

“'M out of fingers!”

“Oh! Silly me.” Aziraphale snapped, and a bowl of water appeared opposite the paints. “There we are. Clean off in there between colors.”

Crowley stuck both hands in and scrubbed, splashing a bit onto the table. Aziraphale discreetly made sure none of it got on his art.

Yellow was next, and then Crowley began to mix. Aziraphale watched in amazement as subtle shading filled the page, lines swirling and bending around each other. Pinks and violets and greens from the most delicate sprout in spring to the darkest jungle stretched until finally there was no more space left to fill.

“Would you like another page?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley just shook his head and wiggled out of Aziraphale's lap. Aziraphale smiled. Crowley had paint on his nose, streaked across one cheek, all over his smock, and somehow in his hair. Aziraphale had been watching him the whole time and had no idea how he had managed that. 

“Let me just hang this up to dry, and we'll get you cleaned up.”

Crowley blinked at him. Aziraphale wondered how much of Crowley's quiet was nerves, or feeling little. Did Crowley talk when he didn't want to in their everyday life together? Something to consider. For now, he had a little boy to take care of.

A quick miracle had everything put away, the painting hovering by the ceiling to dry. Crowley held his hands out to be washed. “You have paint in your hair, lovey. I think we'd best get you in the bath.”

Crowley's face lit up with delight. “Bath!”

With some trepidation, Aziraphale led him up the stairs to the bathroom. Crowley tugged at his smock, squirming about. Before Aziraphale could help with the knot, Crowley had the whole mess off and had transferred paint to his shirt, trousers, and bare arms. It only got worse when Crowley insisted on taking off his own clothes. 

Aziraphale gave up and turned to get the tap running. Hot water poured out, quickly filling the tub. Aziraphale made an addition or two while Crowley was busy with his clothes. Crowley's face, when he turned to face the tub, was a sight. Towers of bubbles frothed everywhere. Crowley's lips parted, his eyes big. He scrambled in, and Aziraphale had to reach out to stop him from falling. The bubbles came up nearly to his chin.

Crowley laughed in excitement. Aziraphale scooped a bit of bubbles up and put them on Crowley's nose, infected with his mischief. Crowley crossed his eyes trying to see. He splashed both hands down on the water's hidden surface, causing a minor wave. Aziraphale sucked in a breath as his trousers and sleeves got damp. He let it out slowly. He had already known he was going to end up wet. His waistcoat was safely out of the way. He tried again to resign himself. Like swimming, or an unexpected rainstorm. 

Crowley had quickly lost interest in Aziraphale's deep breaths. He was twisting around in the bath, babbling a bit to himself. “Imma water serpent!”

Aziraphale laughed. “You are!” He reached into the water and shaped bubbles into a series of ships, a touch of miracle helping them to hold their shape. 

Crowley hissed in delight. He sunk low in the water, weaving back and forth. He paddled a bit, circling the ships. 

“Oh no!” Aziraphale exclaimed, pitching his voice high, “What's that, off the, er, starboard?” He answered himself in a deeper voice. “It's the great Sea Serpent! Quick, rouse the captain! We must offer tribute if we want to escape this alive.”

Crowley pouted. “I'm not gonna kill them.”

“Of course not, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “But they don't know that, do they? Besides, you might shake their ships a bit if they're not properly respectful.”

Worries appeased, Crowley blinked expectantly at the ships. Aziraphale wiggled his fingers and the impression of little bubble people began scurrying over the ships. “Tribute!” he cried. “We bring gifts, oh great Serpent!”

Concentrating hard on what he wanted, Aziraphale snapped. Red circles shot over the side of one ship. With snakelike reflexes, Crowley reached out and snagged it. Another ship did the same, then the third. The circles came rapidly and in no particular pattern. Crowley caught them all, panting and bright eyed. At last, the ships floated out of his reach and dissolved back to bubbles as they hit the edge of the tub. 

“Now, what have you got there?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley held up his hands. Cupped in them were tiny red coins. Crowley blew the layer of concealing bubbles off. “Treasure!”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale said, quite as if he hadn't conjured such a thing. “We shall need somewhere safe to put it. If only we had a treasure chest...”

Crowley looked at him, clearly waiting for him to manifest such a thing. Aziraphale smiled serenely back. After a long moment, Crowley's eyes widened. He whipped his head from side to side, searching. At last, he looked up. He gave a cry of triumph and pointed, nearly losing his coins in the process.

“My clever boy,” Aziraphale crooned. He stood and fetched the chest from the deep shower shelf he had installed for just such a purpose. The chest was, of course, quite waterproof, but he nonetheless lowered it into his own lap. “Now, what's this?” He frowned, held it up, and gave it a shake. Something rattled inside. An odd, muffled sort of chirp made its way out. “There appears to be something inside!”

Crowley vibrated in place. He clearly wanted to snap the lock open, but his hands were still full of treasure. “Open, please?”

Aziraphale gave him a surprised look. He had only meant to draw the suspense out for another moment or two. Crowley's request was unexpected.

“Why, I certainly could not turn down such a polite request!” He opened the chest. The chirping sound became clearer. Crowley squealed in excitement and bounced. Waves sloshed over the side of the tub.

“Dolphins!”

“Hmmmm.” A deeper song joined them. “There must be a whale, too. Should you like them to join you in your bath?”

Crowley nodded frantically. Aziraphale tipped the contents of the chest- three dolphins and a whale, all about the size of Crowley's hand and designed for the bath- into the water. They immediately began to swim away.

Aziraphale might have made some minor alterations.

Crowley emptied his hands of treasure into the chest and took off after them. They split, the dolphins all chattering to each other, the whale going off on its own. Crowley followed the dolphins around, poking them in fascination. He picked one up and squeezed it. The dolphin flipped its tail and chirped cheerfully at him. Crowley giggled and put it back with its friends. After a bit, he switched to the whale. The whale would dive, then come back up and spout. Crowley put his fingers in the water coming out of the whale's head. The next time the whale dove, he took a deep breath and dunked under. 

He came up a second later sputtering and upset. “Eyes!”

Responding instinctively to the genuine pain in Crowley's tone, Aziraphale reached over and scooped him to the edge of the bath. “Did you get bubbles in your eyes?” Crowley nodded miserably, mouth stretched down. Aziraphale conjured a washcloth, wet with nothing more than water. He cleaned Crowley's eyes as best he could. “I'm sorry, lovey, the best thing to do is let your eyes water and get it all out.”

“Sssnake eyes?”

Aziraphale hesitated. Goodness, would it be different for snake eyes? He had done, well. A rather embarrassing amount of research on snakes over the years. Snakes wouldn't blink, but Crowley had eyelids, and obviously tear ducts. “Yes,” he said, “though if it still hurts in a few minutes let me know.”

It seemed to be clearing up even as Aziraphale spoke, though. “Wanted to see where the whale went,” Crowley explained.

“We can have a bath with no bubbles sometime,” Aziraphale offered.

Crowley nodded, but it seemed the fun had gone out of the bath. Aziraphale set to washing Crowley as best he could and got hardly any push back at all. Someone was tiring out. 

Once the paint was removed from Crowley's skin and hair, Aziraphale helped him out of the bath and dried him off. “Do you have some cozy clothes?”

“Jammies?” Crowley asked, blinking and valiantly trying to appear more awake than he was.

“That sounds perfect,” Aziraphale said. “Of course, you might not want to nap, but jammies are awfully nice for cuddling, aren't they?”

Crowley bit his lip and snapped. A small pile of- oh. Stars. Crowley's pajamas were covered in stars. That was...almost unbearably sweet. 

“May I help you get into them?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley fidgeted a bit but nodded. Aziraphale gently unwrapped him and whisked the towel away. “Hold onto my shoulders,” Aziraphale said, “and lift. One at a time, there's a dear.” Crowley stepped into the footie jammies, wobbling in place as Aziraphale slowly stood and drew them up. He threaded Crowley's arms in, then zipped him up. He tapped Crowley on the nose. “What a lovely bit of the universe you are, sweeting.”

Crowley ducked his head. It was hard to tell, with the bath's heat still lingering, but Aziraphale rather thought he blushed again.

“Come along, then,” Aziraphale said. “Let's go have a story. Should you like snakes or-” In a last minute substitution, Aziraphale offered, “-stars?” Surely he had an appropriate book on stars somewhere.

“Ssstarsss, please.”

Out of sight, Aziraphale smiled. Stars and a please. He would get spoiled at this rate.

“Stars it is.” Aziraphale deposited Crowley back on the couch. “I shan't be a tick.” Humming to himself, Aziraphale detoured briefly to the kitchen, where he had set up a snack before they began. Oh! Of course! He wandered into the stacks. He was sure it was just- there! Book tucked firmly under arm, Aziraphale made his way back to Crowley.

“Up you sit, my dear,” he said. Crowley had sprawled over on his back to stare up at Snake guarding the lego shop. “I can't cuddle and read at the same time otherwise.”

Crowley pulled himself upright. His eyes locked on the plates. There was a hint of betrayal in his eyes. Oh, his picky little eater. 

“Now.” Aziraphale settled himself comfortably next to Crowley. Crowley leaned on him. Perfect. “This is my plate,” Aziraphale said. More of a platter than anything. It was loaded with snacks of all sorts, bits of cheese and eggs and meat, tomatoes and green beans, small squares of melon, and tiny bits of bread, spread with jams. There were also desserts, nibbles of biscuits in three flavors. “And this is yours.” He handed Crowley a small, bright plastic plate. It was empty. He plucked a tomato, a piece of bread smeared with peach marmalade, and half an egg up and put them on Crowley's plate. “That's just to get you started. You may take anything you like from my plate, as long as more than half isn't afters.” He waved a hand and brought the cup he'd bought just for this forward and handed it over to Crowley. It was, as he had warned, a sippy cup- no messy spills- but it was decorated in a cheerful collection of sea animals. 

Not giving Crowley time to over think or protest, Aziraphale opened the book to the beginning and started to read. “Once, there was a little boy who loved the stars.”

It worked like, well, a charm. Crowley became so engrossed in the story of Taru and his secret night time explorations that he ate rather more than Aziraphale had seen in some time. He also, if Aziraphale was any judge, drank all of his apple juice. By the time he was done with the story, the plate Aziraphale had made up was more than half empty and Crowley was slumped against him.

“And so,” Aziraphale finished softly, “Taru made a new friend, and they shared the night ever after. The End.”

“Sss a good story.”

“It is.” A peek confirmed Crowley's eyes were closed. “Here now, let me set this down, sweet.” He took the plate and cup from Crowley and set them on the table. Crowley stirred in sleepy protest. Aziraphale hushed him. The rather larger plate went on the table as well, and the book moved safely out of spilling range. He wrapped an arm securely around Crowley, nestling him down into his lap, and stroked through his hair with his free hand. It worked just as well now as it did when Crowley was big. He was out like a light in moments. 

Aziraphale hummed quietly to himself. He pulled a lock of his hair forward and examined it. Ah, good. It had migrated back to its usual color. He hadn't wanted to miracle it, worried Crowley might see it as a further rebuke. 

Later, they would curl up together and go over everything. What they had both liked, what had been hard. What hadn't worked. How they might improve things next time. Aziraphale did hope there would be a next time. He had quite adored seeing Crowley like this. Now, though, was time to rest.

Aziraphale was full and content. All the things he loved best in the world were near at hand. Except. Well. He summoned a blanket for Crowley, and a book for himself. There.

**Author's Note:**

> My Crowley is eternally genderfluid, he just happens to be a boy in this. If someone wants to write girl!Crowley being little, though, I would be over the moon!


End file.
